


even if i smile (my heart is sad)

by gloomly



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: A lot of Silences, Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Bulimia, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Depression, Eating Disorders, F/F, Graphic Description, References to Depression, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Therapy, Timeline May Be Wonky, Triggers, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:40:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23442613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloomly/pseuds/gloomly
Summary: Yongsun smiles at her from their formation.  The mirrors are streaked from sweaty palms. Hyejin presses her lips together.  Her eyes unable to not trail over Yongsun’s body.Different body types her brain tries to tell her.  But Hyejin can’t bring herself to listen to that.  She sucks in her stomach, tries to subtly stand a little taller.Her eyes flit away from her reflection.
Relationships: Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Jung Wheein, Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Jung Wheein/Kim Yongsun | Solar/Moon Byulyi | Moonbyul, Ahn Hyejin | Hwasa/Kim Yongsun | Solar, OT4 - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	even if i smile (my heart is sad)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello ;;
> 
> This is a commission for [varoro2](https://twitter.com/varoro2) on twitter! thank you so much for this and i hope it's ok ;;
> 
> The prompt dealt with issues of eating disorders, self harm and depression. There are detailed/graphic depictions of self-hard/vomiting in this fic so please if these are triggers to you do not read this fic. Although this was a commission this felt therapeutic to me as I have dealt with these issues before and it felt a bit like closure getting to write about it.

The summer heat seeps through the broken window. Hyejin’s hair frizzes out, curling strands pushed back as the humid air sticks to her skin.

It’s dim, the whirring sound of the small fan drowns out the sounds of the traffic down below. The evening sky bleeds into tendrils of faded yellow and blue, clouds sparse. With the window open, still air hanging around her, she sighs. 

Her body aches and she’s tired. She stares out the window, at the still air, the speckling of lights. 

The apartment is small. It crowds around her, leaves her breathless. 

And yet.

There’s an emptiness in her. 

She props her elbow on her raised knee, leaning forward. She presses into her stomach and it does nothing else but remind her she’s hungry. She’s got nothing to eat. Small refrigerator empty, cupboards collecting dust.

“It’s better this way,” she mumbles to herself, biting at the inside of her cheek. It stings, a jolt of pain that makes her forget about how hungry she is.

Eventually she falls asleep, slumped, crumpled. Summer air clinging to her, unrelentingly suffocating.

-

Yongsun smiles at her from their formation. The mirrors are streaked from sweaty palms. Hyejin presses her lips together. Her eyes unable to not trail over Yongsun’s body. 

_Different body types_ her brain tries to tell her. But Hyejin can’t bring herself to listen to that. She sucks in her stomach, tries to subtly stand a little taller. 

Her eyes flit away from her reflection. She keeps her gaze at a point over her own reflection. Byulyi is going over choreography, explaining steps with practiced wording. Hyejin’s body follows the movements more out of habit than ease. Her body has been aching for days. It’s asking her to stop but Hyejin hasn’t listened to herself in months.

They stop for food. The smell of fry flour and meat makes her mouth water and Hyejin can’t stop herself from eating. Wheein leans into her, pouting cola into their small paper cups. She’s happy and jittery, her hands shake with her laughter and it sloshes all over Hyejin’s cups, landing on the hard dance floor.

“I’m sorry,” Wheein says when she notices she’s managed to spill some of Hyejin’s pants, “laughing too hard.”

Hyejin smiles at her, puts her hands up in an overexaggerated gesture, “It’s ok, it’s ok,” she says with her own smile, standing up, “I’ll go clean up.”

The halls are empty, Hyejin walks farther than she has to, towards an area she knows is usually always free of people.

The bathroom is clean, pristine, smelling of eucalyptus. _Clean_. She closes the last stall behind her. Her hands go to lift the toilet seat as she goes to her knees. She’s cut her hair, strands grazing just a bit at the top of her neck. Her fingers still run through the bleached hair, pushing it back before it falls again over her forehead.

She hesitates, for only a second. There’s nothing but her and the bright lights of the bathroom. Her heart is aching, a painful burning feeling that’ll soon travel to her throat.

When she shoves her finger down her throat, the noises are familiar, the loud belching, gagging sounds of the intrusion. She pushes further until she feels the rush of something start. The splashing sounds grate along her ears, fingers now gripping the edge of the toilet seat, knuckles white.

She heaves and her stomach empties out. The feeling has become familiar, it eases a mix of nerves, pin pricks that shoot up her arms, right at the points of her gripping fingertips.

Her heaving turns into coughs, nothing comes up but heavy breathing, air burning her raw throat, face cooling with tears.

She stays there for a while, her grip loosens, her chest rises and falls with her breathing. Her hands fumble to flush the mess she’s made, rising up, her knees protest, cracking into place.

Her palms press into her eyes, dragging away the tears that have streaked down her cheeks. She takes in a shuddery sigh, fingers opening the stall.

Hyejin is quick to rinse out her mouth, clear her throat, trying to do away with the itchy scratching feeling she’s left behind.

She digs for gum in her pants’ pocket, throwing the rapper into the waste bin without a second thought as she finally steps back to the practice room.

Nobody asks her why she’s taken so long. Hyejin goes through the rest of the practice day going through the motions. Her voice cracks a bit when it’s her turn during vocal practice. Their coach gives her a look, reminds her to take care of her throat, no point getting sick now.

Hyejin smiles and nods along, easy going.

-

Hyejin sits carefully. The floor is cool. She shivers, watches the playback of their performance. Her dress clings to her in the most awkward ways, hip lines protruding widely. She can’t look at herself, even with all the confidence her eyes drag their gaze to Byulyi, lines straight, narrow. 

She locks her phone halfway through their performance, the room is dark. She should be sleeping. Sleep has become less and less of a luxury. Promoting has become the only thing she can think about. Getting up, performing on stage, trying to sleep.

She closes her eyes, swollen from no sleep. But no matter how tightly she closes them, nothing comes to her. She spends nights watching the shadows move on the ceiling. Watching the winter sun rise against the steely line of the gray sky. 

It’s winter now. 

Hyejin curls into herself, thin blanket wrapped around her knees. The window refuses to close fully and the morning clouds are promising icy rain.

She stands up when the time on her phone finally reads _5 am_. She has enough time to eat breakfast.

She has leftovers from an after show dinner she had shared with the rest of the girls. She dumps the sticky rice and meat into a pan, watches idly as it begins to sizzle, bubble with the heat. None of her plates are clean, she grabs a pair of chopsticks and eats straight from the stove, singeing the roof of her mouth, numbing her taste buds.

She pushes food into her mouth quickly, barely tastes it, still chewing when she turns away, grabs her things and heads to the minuscule bathroom.

She always manages to knock things over. No matter how hard she tries not to. She sighs as she picks up bottles of shampoo, conditioner. Drops her towel and clothes on the floor. Hyejin recoils when she meets her reflection. The mirror she has in her bathroom is dirty, chipped at the edges. Hyejin peels her clothes carelessly. Pushes down her pajama pants, rolls up her shirt. She’s wearing mismatched underwear. She feels like she’s about to break at the seams. Hyejin looks down at herself, at the flesh over her body. She hates it. Hates how big her thighs are, how her stomach pudges over the waistband of her underwear. Hates the rolls of fat she can’t pretend not to see. The anger she’s been simmering, the scathing frustration, boils over. Her fingernails dig painfully into her palms, pressing in. The dull pain ebbs into her body, she presses harder until she knows she’ll break skin. Bites down hard against her tongue and doesn’t flinch when the taste of blood coats her mouth.

Hyejin takes in a breath, stuttering, eyes fluttering, lashes beading with tears.

The water is cold when she turns it on, steps out of the rest of her clothes, skin tightening, breaking into goosebumps as she waits for it to warm up. 

She runs a washcloth over her body, reaches down to her legs, her fingers skim the inside of her thighs, where the skin is raised, scars from the lines she’s edged into herself, the puckering silver slits of the few she’s managed to let heal. She scrapes her nails over them, considers reopening some of them. But she decides against it, knows she’s running short on time. Hyejin shakes her head, lets the water rinse away the soap still clinging to her body, the water turning cold again. 

-

The food between them smells delicious. Hyejin feels her mouth water, stomach feeling empty. Wheein pushes dishes around, until all their food arrives and they’re left alone again.

It’s snowing outside. Hyejin looks at the glass door, watches the way the big flakes fall against the muted blue sky.

They’ve just come out of practice, end of the year award shows piling up. It means more eyes on them, whether they know who MAMAMOO is or not. Hyejin stands tall under all the stares, pretends like she’s the prettiest girl to ever live. No one believes her. But Hyejin manages to hold on to her delusions.

In her spare time, between practice and home, she reads the articles. She sees the pictures people are spreading of her. She’s practically memorized every single word. She’s fat, Hyejin knows. People don’t let her forget it. Every picture, every screen capture with the rest of the members. She stands out, looks absolutely huge, ugly, disgusting.

Someone nudges her, pointy shoulder jostling her. It’s Yongsun, who leans into her, smiling as she pushes food onto her plate.

“Stop thinking, eat before the food gets cold,” she’s smiling like she always does. It rubs Hyejin the wrong way, she bites the feeling down, grabs her own pair of chopsticks.

They laugh as they eat, discussing performances and plans between bites of food. Hyejin eats fast, piles her plate high with noodles, meat, rice, anything she can reach.

She eats like she hasn’t eaten in years, stuffs her mouth until her jaw aches. Wheein laughs at the way her cheeks protrude with the amount of food, reaching over to poke at Hyejin’s face. Hyejin swats Wheein’s hand away, chews quickly, offers her own laugh, eyes creasing with the force of it. For a second, a moment between the stormy weather, the warmth of shared food, Hyejin knows just a tiny bit how it feels to be happy.

They stand outside the restaurant sometime later. After they’ve finished their full and Hyejin feels weighted down.

Byulyi and Wheein lean a bit back, on their phones trying to find a way home. Hyejin huddles close to Wheein, hands deep in the pockets of her padded jacket. She watches Wheein message her aunt, promising to be home soon. 

Wheein rests her head on Hyejin’s shoulder, looks up to grin at her before her eyes turn back to look at the screen of her phone.

Byulyi has gone, taxi pulling up along the road. It’s not long before Wheein goes as well, promises to message Hyejin as soon as she’s at home. 

The snow has slowed down, little white specks falling down, lethargic, spiraling down in an almost hypnotizing way.

Hyejin and Yongsun stand silently together for far too long. Hyejin can’t make eye contact with her, stares at the way the snow covers the steps of people who have passed by seconds ago.

“Ah this is embarrassing,” Yongsun finally says, her own gaze looking behind Hyejin, at the warm light from the restaurant. A giant peal of laughter escapes Yongsun then, nervously out of place, disconcerting. 

Hyejin doesn’t offer a response, and this seems to unnerve Yongsun even more, whose eyes finally flicker to look at her.

“I was wondering if it was ok for me to stay with you tonight,” she says. Her voice is low, rushed, like it doesn’t want to be heard, like she’s hoping the winter wind will take it away and it’ll float between the falling snowflakes.

Hyejin stiffens at the question. She must take too long to answer, because Yongsun is already babbling excuses, hushed _sorrys_.

“Sure, _unnie_ ,” Hyejin mumbles, behind the high collar of her coat, voice soft, “you can stay tonight.”

-

The lights flicker when Hyejin turns them on. She shuffles into the small room, undoes her coat, throws it at the nearest empty spot. 

Yongsun looks around, hands following suit as she peels of her own outer layers.

“You live here alone?” Yongsun asks, sitting on the drooping couch, looking over the almost closed window.

“Yeah,” Hyejin says, sits across her, shrugging, “it’s all I can afford, not too bad.”

“Is it always this cold?” Yongsun asks, eyes still looking around.

“A bit,” Hyejin says, voice steady, “at least there aren’t any roaches like in the summer.”

She smiles at the way Yongsun shivers at that, stands up as she goes to where she keeps her things.

“Here,” she says, turns back to offer Yongsun a spare change of sleep clothes.

Hyejin changes as Yongsun changes in the bathroom. She’ll have to wake up early tomorrow and shower. 

She’s stuck thinking about their upcoming schedule when the door to the bathroom finally opens.

Yongsun smiles at her, her own clothes balled up in her arms. Hyejin looks at her, at the way her clothes fit the other. It’s more or less the same, except they’re a couple of sizes too big. Yongsun’s legs disappear in the fabric around her thighs and hips, shirt billowing against her chest.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” Yongsun says, again the silence between them is awkward, tense if Hyejin lets herself think enough about it.

“I’ll get the sleeping mats,” Hyejin says, going towards the small closet.

-

A plane passes over the building late into the night. Hyejin can still hear Yongsun’s even breathing over it.

The girl next to her has fallen asleep. It’s late, hours later but Hyejin’s nerves feel raw. Her face prickles with the feeling of it, crawling down her arms and legs. A restless feeling against her skin that she just can’t get rid of.

Her leg shakes impatiently, her mind pounding.

Eventually she gets up, tries to move quietly, closes the bathroom door before she turns on the lights.

She drops to her knees as soon as she can, lifting the seat impatiently. It’s been hours since she’s ate, she isn’t even sure if doing this would have any benefit to her thumping heart. She takes in a breath, breathes out through her nose. 

She raises her hand to her mouth, sticks out her index and middle finger. She’s gagging before she’s even done it, body anticipating.

Hyejin looks at the door again, makes sure its close before she plunges her fingers down her throat.

It takes a bit longer for her to get anything to happen, she pushes in deeper until she can feel the rise of vile up her throat, burning in her chest, she removes her fingers quickly, holds on to the toilet as she heaves out. Liquid splashes into the toilet water. Her body shudders, eyes watering as her stomach begins to empty out. In between bouts of heaving breaths she pushes out air from her body, vision blurry, face heating up with exertion.

She doesn’t stop until all she’s throwing up is clear liquid. Her stomach hurts, mouth foul tasting. She grabs toilet paper to wipe her mouth, clean the lid where she’s been careless.

She flushes before anything else, standing up to reach for her toothbrush and toothpaste.

-

The air around them is cold, the days go by way too fast. Hyejin loses track of how many things she has been told to do, to remember, events, shows, performances.

Hyejin huddles into herself, smiles when Wheein wraps around her. The waiting room is small, the lights wash them out. Hyejin looks at her reflection for a second, a mistake. She looks away quickly, letting Wheein drape herself over her lap, eyes closing.

They’ve been awake for a while now. Hyejin hasn’t slept in a long time. Yongsun and Byulyi are littering around, taking pictures, having a not so private conversation about all their schedules. 

Hyejin watches them for a couple of seconds, their shimmering dresses ease over their dainty bodies. Hyejin squirms, hands going to the hem of her own dress, pulling the hem over her thighs.

Wheein makes a sound at the back of her throat, urging her to stop moving. Hyejin stays still, rigid as her eyes look at Wheein now. She’s small, Hyejin is forced to think, slim arms, legs, small waist.

Hyejin’s teeth catch at the inside of her cheek, biting hard to anchor herself. 

“What do you want to eat, Hyejin?” Byulyi calls at her, Yongsun looks at her, expectant. 

“I’ll eat whatever,” she says, voice cheerful, letting herself smile.

-

They’re squished together at another small restaurant. There’s a mountain of food on their table. The smell of cheap fried food makes her mouth water, grateful as the others pile food on her plate. She eats without a care, laughing at the jokes the others say, joining their teasing with fits of giggle.

It’s late when they’re standing outside again and Yongsun doesn’t asks this time as they both take the bus to Hyejin’s apartment.

Wheein sends her a message as soon as she closes the door. Hyejin puts away the leftover food in the fridge, turning on the lights as Yongsun takes of her coat, turns on the personal heater she had given Hyejin a couple of days ago.

They sit next to it after they change. Yongsun knots Hyejin’s borrowed shirt over her stomach. Hyejin gets the smallest glimpse of Yongsun’s flat stomach.

They don’t talk for a moment. Hyejin never really knows what to say, she doesn’t really understand why Yongsun always finds her way to her. 

“Hyejin-ah,” Yongsun says once they’ve gone way too long without talking, “when is your rent payment due next?”

Hyejin turns to look at her fully, in the dim room, with the glow of the heater, Yongsun looks even softer.

“Next month, why?” Hyejin asks, bringing her knees closer to herself.

“Just wondering,” Yongsun says, gets up to roll out her sleeping mat. Hyejin watches her, stands up to take out her own sleeping things.

-

Wheein and Byulyi have gone for the day. Hyejin stays at the practice room longer than she should. It’s snowing outside and the building is empty. It’s unnerving, how quiet everything is. The yellow lights make everything feel warm. Hyejin looks at her reflection. Her body looks worn down, but still she can’t seem to lose the weight. No matter how much she goes with little food. Or how much she sticks her fingers down her throat. She still has the weight that everyone keeps calling _baby fat_. But she’s been watching Wheein lose the extra pounds almost easily, jaw cutting in a sharp angle, body slimming into a feminine, fragile body.

Her jeans are too tight in places she’s been desperate to keep hidden. The more attention they get the more they push her towards a certain look. She likes to pretend she likes it, smiling when they give her clothes that barely fit her but emphasize her key body parts.

She’s pressing her hands into her stomach, looking quietly at the way she pinches excess flesh between her fingers, caught in the downward spiral she’s thrown herself into. Between her mental berating, the guilt she’s letting herself drown in, she doesn’t notice the footsteps, the way the door creaks open just a bit. Her eyes snap away from her reflection, settling on the image of Yongsun, pristine looking, delicate.

“Oh, Hyejin-ah,” she says, opens the door even more. 

They look at each other through the mirror in a terse moment and then Yongsun walks into the room, motioning to the chairs at the end, where a bag lays limply.

“Forgot my bag,” she says, shuffling towards it. She swings it over her shoulders, Hyejin takes the time to drop her hands away from her body, pushes her sweater over her stomach. 

Yongsun turns to look at her, still through the mirror, eyes searching for something Hyejin isn’t willing to give her.

“Why are you still here?” Yongsun asks, takes her phone out to look at the time, lingering at what Hyejin assumes is the date.

“Why are you here, _unnie_ ,” Hyejin shrugs at her, averts her eyes.

Yongsun doesn’t say anything. Hyejin is growing tired at the empty pauses, the implications.

“It’s too expensive to get home,” Yongsun finally answers, puts her phone away, “for the holidays.”

Hyejin turns to look at the other girl, watches as she pushes her hair out of her face, coat undone from her time outside.

“There’s no one back at home,” she the word feels out of place, clunky around her tongue.

“Ah,” Yongsun looks at the floor, lips pursing as if in thought.

“You’re going to spend the holidays alone?” Yongsun asks, voice gone soft.

Hyejin sighs, nods as she turns to get her own things from the piano seat, “well who else am I supposed to be with?”

Yongsun walks to her, soft smile back as she reaches for Hyejin’s hand, “let’s spend it together then.”

-

Yongsun pays for take out food and Hyejin watches carefully as the snow falls, listens to the sounds of the traffic below, the noises of dishes getting pushed together.

They eat in silence, next to the small heater. There’s no gifts, there’s no special decorations or sparkling lights. They put on music on their phones, Hyejin laughs when Yongsun takes out bottles of soju from the fridge, passing one along to her as she sits again. 

The room is dark again, the sky a faded cornwall blue. Snow falls in a flurry of white, a static like presence that has Hyejin yearning, _longing_. Missing the warm embrace of her father, the taste of her mother’s homemade food.

She’s not sure when she’s started crying. Hot tears roll down silently down her face, dripping onto the skin of her knees.

She finds herself being pulled, towards the embrace of Yongsun. Her body is bony, warm. Her arms circle around Hyejin and hold on tightly, trying to squeeze out the sadness from the younger girl.

“Don’t cry,” Yongsun says, but it’s watery at best, thin and breaking, edged in the sound of tears, “you’ll make me cry too.”

They stay like that long enough for Hyejin to stop crying. Hey eyes hurt and she feels like she’s falling asleep.

When she wakes up again it’s completely dark, food and dishes cleared up. She’s curled into herself, in her uncomfortable position she realizes her pajama pants have risen up high up her thigh and in a moment of panic she completely wakes up, pushing them down until her leg is covered again, hoping Yongsun hadn’t seen anything.

She sits up, the heater is still on and Yongsun sleeps beside her, covered in two thin blankets, hair tied back neatly.

She feels like throwing up, nerves rising, urging her to get up, close the door of the bathroom recklessly as she leans over the toilet. 

She stiffens when she hears footsteps, Yongsun’s light knocking on the ajar door.

“Hyejin, are you ok?” she asks.

It’s stupid, Hyejin thinks, the question.

She’s in the bathroom, throwing up almost everything she’s eaten.

She’s alone on Christmas day.

It’s 3:17 am and all Hyejin can do is empty out everything inside her. Retch until her organs feel like they’re going to leave her too.

Hyejin stops enough to clear her throat, raspy, “I’m ok,” she says meekly, “just ate too much.”

The quietness that follows feels a thousand times more prying than the questions Yongsun could be asking. It feels like forever before she hears the creak of the floor as Yongsun shifts her weight.

“Ok,” she says, slowly, “I’ll leave a glass of water for you.”

Hyejin hears the water running, hears the way Yongsun walks pass the bathroom, the short pause she takes before she goes back to laying in her sleep mat.

Hyejin lets go of a sob, it’s loud, it scares her, as she sniffles, spit dripping from her lips. Her hand scrambles to flush the mess, turning around to look at the mirror, at the red eyes, the flushed cheeks, her shiny mouth.

She blinks at herself until she can’t recognize herself anymore. Her empty stomach twists and she closes her fingers into tight fists, shaking with the force of her frustration, hatred.

She hates herself, she hates every little thing about herself. 

-

Summer rolls by and Hyejin still hasn’t gotten used to living like this.

They blow up way quicker than they had ever expected, soon there’s bigger crowds of fans waiting for them, buying their albums, joining their fancafe. It scares her, all the eyes on her. 

With the heat and the new success comes less barriers. Soon spring and summer clothes are replacing their winter coats and fashion. They perform in all kinds of summer festivals. Are given summery, breezy clothing to match their fun concept. 

Hyejin thinks she can sing the entirety of _Um Oh Ah Yeah_ in her sleep, her body knows the dance completely by muscle memory. 

She smiles more than she probably has her entire life. Smiling at crowds, smiling at fans, smiling for pictures, appearances. 

Her face hurts when she’s home and she look in the mirror, practicing her smiling, looking at the way her cheeks push up with it. Fattening. Wide.

It’s been harder to get used to the extra body at home. Yongsun crowds the place, even with the so little she brings with her.

But it does make it easier. With Hyejin doing rough guides, Yongsun’s own extra work brings in enough money to pay the rent, buy more food.

It’s easier but that doesn’t mean Hyejin necessarily likes all of it. She’s learned to be quieter in the bathroom, makes it a habit to lock the door behind her. 

She’s been sneaking around for years, doing this, hoping one day it’ll actually work. It’s easier to curve now. She’s used to digging her fingernails into her skin, biting her cheek until it bleeds. Pinching skin when she’s uneasy, restless.

Until it feels like it’s bursting right out of her skin. The fuzzy, unrelenting feeling of anxiety, bubbling under her skin, pushing and pushing until the pin pricks of it settle on her temples, knee jerking. Yongsun is on her phone, laying on the floor, window wide open, trying to catch a breeze.

Hyejin convinces herself to wait until they’re supposed to be sleeping. Her heart doesn’t stop jackrabbiting as they turn off the lights, leave the window open, the fan buzzing in the background. Hyejin counts until she hears Yongsun’s breathing go even.

“Yongsun-unnie,” she asks out loud, asks louder when she doesn’t get an answer. She waits a couple of seconds and then when she’s sure Yongsun is sleeping, gets up, pushes the thin blanket away from her body.

The floor is cool against her bare feet, the tile flooring of the bathroom running shivers up her body.

Once she’s inside, by herself, the lights on, she searches for her make up bag, digging pass all the tubes of lipstick, gloss, bottles of foundation, correcter, all the way to the bottom, where she’s slit the plastic lining, her fingers touch the hard line of something small, thin.

Makeup falls onto the floor with her messy actions, her fingers wrap around the blade, holds still until she’s sure Yongsun isn’t at the other side of the door.

She hastily puts everything back inside the bag, pushes it away from her as she sits on the closed toilet. The small blade in her hand is old. She looks at it and stands up, reaching for the bottle of rubbing alcohol on one of their crowded shelves.

She uncaps it, settles it on the edge of the sink as she sits down again. Her arms are mostly unmarred, aren’t her target of interest. Instead she opens her legs, her sleeping shorts make this easier. She pushes up the hem of them, until she’s forced to see the lines she’s carved there. Silver healed lines, jagged, scars running at the ones she’s created not so long ago.

There’s crisscrossed lines, long vertical lines running down small angry ones. Hyejin feels the skin, grimaces at the roughness of it.

The stinging feeling of the blade is like a sigh. Her body slumps with it, shoulders easing, tension leaving, feels like she can finally breathe. Like her heart is no longer lodged in her throat. 

She’s careful, makes sure not to go too deep, keeps away from where she’s already cut too much. Hyejin’s not sure how long she does this for, lost in the numbing feeling of it, at the way blood starts to trickle down her thighs.

Her hands have gone shaky and it’s the tell tale sign for her to stop. She puts the blade in the sink, reaches for the bottle of alcohol, squirts it over her open cuts. It spikes the feeling, an intense burning, stinging, painful sensation. At times it’s all Hyejin really craves, despite the relative success, the events, the appearances, the jobs, the money they’ve started to make. There’s nothing more that she wants than this feeling.

She can’t turn on the shower now, doesn’t want to wake up Yongsun. Instead she runs the faucet, cups cold water into her hand, rubs it against her broken skin. The alcohol and water run together, drip dropping into dull pink droplets onto the cold bathroom floor. 

She must run the water for longer than she should, there’s a knock on the door and Hyejin goes rigid.

“Hyejin-ah,” Yongsun’s voice is sleepy, tired, “are you ok?”

Hyejin’s anger flashes, misplaced until it fades away into anxiousness, stomach twisting, teeth clattering. Her mouth starts to form excessive saliva. The water is still running and this seems to unnerve Yongsun more than anything.

“Open the door Hyejin,” she says, voice firm, the doorknob doesn’t turn and Hyejin is oddly touched.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyejin answers, sounds like a plea to her ears. Yongsun doesn’t answer right away but when she does, it’s not what Hyejin wants to hear.

“Open the door before I call someone,” there’s a sense of urgency and Hyejin isn’t sure why. Isn’t sure why Yongsun is so desperate to see her.

Her heart feels strange, vibrating, adding to the uncomfortable feeling, the dread of being seen like this.

“Open the door, Hyejin-ah,” Yongsun says, one last time. It sounds final and Hyejin finds herself closing the tab, standing up on shaky legs to open the door.

Yongsun’s eyes look right at hers and then, without a question, down Hyejin’s body, to the streaks of water and alcohol running down her legs.

Yongsun’s eyes snap right back up. There’s a sadness in them when they meet again, and Hyejin, no matter how much she searches, can’t find the pity, the disappointment she had expected to see.

Yongsun pushes her back, onto the toilet seat. It’s wet and Hyejin looks on dazed as Yongsun drops to her knees, right in front of her. Then there’s gentle hands on her thighs, the softness of a towel wiping away the excess water, dabbing at the blood still beading along the scarring lines.

They don’t really talk about it, Yongsun turns on the shower, detaches the head to spray the floor down. It all goes down the drain. And it’s almost like Hyejin hasn’t done anything at all.

Yongsun doesn’t make her apologize, Yongsun doesn’t ask her _why_ , or _how_ , or _when_ , _where_. She makes Hyejin change her bottoms, in the dark, under the lights from the buildings surrounding them, they lay down and Yongsun’s breathing is uneven.

It’s shaky and it sounds too much like she’s crying.

“Does Wheein know?” she asks, finally, voice thin.

Hyejin looks at her, at her eyes, bright under the night.

Hyejin can’t help the smile that spread on her lips, slow and easy. What is there that Wheein doesn’t know about her?

-

Wheein’s voice cracks as soon as she barges into the apartment. Never one to hesitate, she demands to see them and Hyejin, unable to deny her, lets her run her fingers along the lines of scars.

“You said you’ve stopped,” Wheein says, voice small, dropping away from the lines of Hyejin’s thighs.

“I had,” Hyejin finds the need to defend herself, “I don’t do it as much as I used to, you know how bad it used to be.”

Wheein gazes at her, questioning, and Hyejin knows what she wants to ask.

“I’m trying to stop,” she says, before the words are said out loud, “I’ve been holding on to my food.”

Wheein’s expression is neutral, and in that sense it comforts Hyejin more.

-

The summer air bleeds into the cool autumn rain. Hyejin watches as rain falls quietly around them, splattering down in it’s plunge to the concrete feet below them.

Wheein brings plates of food to her. Opening the window even more as she sits down too.

Yongsun has been increasingly busy with shows and appearances, often leaving Hyejin alone in the apartment.

But if anything it makes room for Wheein, who wraps herself around Hyejin like nothing has changed. Like they’re still two girls in Jeonju and not two people in a group at the cusp of something great. 

It’s a mismatched assortment of food, things they used to eat together when they were still in school. Hyejin spots the sticky rice cakes her mother used to make for her. Wheein passes her a plate, pushes dishes closer to her but doesn’t do anything else. She grabs pieces and bites of food for herself, clumsily tries to get meat out of a crab shell.

Hyejin laughs at her attempts, licks her lips as she reaches for a crab for herself, piling rice into her bowl, dropping the crab into the bed she’s made with it.

She cracks the shell easily, pulls out the meat, mixes it with her rice.

It’s the most normal she’s managed to make herself feel, something about the way Wheein doesn’t stare her down, doesn’t nudge her or prod her. She takes a tentative bite. Wheein takes a sip of her drink, reaches for the bottle to pour more soda into her now half cup.

It’s not a big deal. 

Hyejin chews slowly and thinks that this is _ok_. She might not be but at least her and Wheein are ok.

-

Her nerves still bubble over, and no matter how much she hates everything about herself, she finds something new to fixate on.

It’s cold again and her apartment is now all four of them. There’s barely enough room for them but between all of them it feels less lonely. It means Hyejin can’t do things as much as she would like. She still finds herself sneaking to bathrooms in their company building. It happens sporadically, something she really can’t control and keeps away from Wheein.

It’s something she keeps away when she’s standing on stage, next to the other girls and Wheein’s cry is so anguished, so relieved, it makes her tear up as they hold on to their first ever trophy, cheers loud in her ears. Their song plays around them and Hyejin puts on a show, teary eyed, smiling, her stomach may peek a bit but she’s so utterly happy, so tired, so relieved, she keeps the feeling away.

-

She’s home. Yongsun is away, doing a show, Wheein as well. It’s just her and Byulyi. Hyejin lays on the collapsing couch, listens to the water of the shower as Byulyi rinses off a day in the practice room. She’s changed into clean clothes, passing the time on her phone. She looks herself up, out of habit, reading the posts and articles about her body, comparing her to Byulyi. 

_Which body type is prettier?_

_Only fat fangirls will say Hwasa’s body is the best._

_Moonbyul’s body is so pretty, just my type._

She means to close off the articles, focus on other things, but she can’t help herself as she keeps clicking on them, and in her trance she doesn’t notice Byulyi, not until it’s too late and Byulyi’s voice breaks her daze.

“What are those?” she asks, eyes clearly looking somewhere on Hyejin and it takes her a second before she realizes just what Byulyi is asking.

She closes her legs, pushes the fabric over her skin, frantic, heart erratic.

“Why?” Byulyi asks and there’s that question again.

It’s something Hyejin has been asked many times, something she can’t answer on her own. There’s isn’t a why. It’s something she’s had to deal with for a long time. It makes her feel something.

Her chest is burning.

Her breathing feels trapped and all she wants to do is not be there.

“Are you depressed?” she asks, bluntly, point blank.

It’s the most explicit someone has ever been with her and it makes her feel like a child, unsure of what to say, what she’s feeling.

Byulyi pushes her legs off the couch, takes the space to sit, looks at the dirty window Hyejin still hasn’t been able to close.

“There’s people who can help you, you know?” she asks, voice tight, eyes dark, “you don’t have to pretend like you’re ok and not get any help.”

Hyejin doesn’t say anything and it seems to be all Byulyi needs, “I know it’s hard, here...where we live,” she pauses, finally turns to look at her, “but there’s people who want to help, there’s things you can do.”

Her voice sounds strange, and Hyejin catches the flicker of something in Byulyi’s eyes.

“Unnie…” she starts, can’t finish the sentence.

“I can give you a number to call,” Byulyi says simply, gets up, long fingers gripping Hyejin’s ankle for a second, let go, “get to the point where we can actually help you.”

Hyejin stays up after they all fall asleep, piece of paper crushed onto her palm. She’s read the numbers so many times she’s more or less memorized them. 

_They’re good_. Byulyi had said. _Confidential_.

Hyejin supposes she’s well known enough to appreciate something like that now.

The implications of the number doesn’t escape her. Byulyi’s straightforwardness, it’s all she needs to form the idea in her head.

She wonders briefly just what Byulyi could be so unhappy about. Wonders if Byulyi has scares like her, wonders what’s wrong with _her_.

Hey eyes stare at the ceiling, she listens to the other’s breathing, wonders if she’ll be able to be ok too.

-

Hyejin throws up the day of her appointment. She’s nervous, she’s unsure. No one knows she’s still doing that, no one knows that she only eats so confidently just to have more to throw up later. 

And it’s working, her weight is more or less stable, it’s no longer fluctuating. She’s still fat, still nowhere near where Byulyi or Yongsun are but at least she’s managed to keep some pounds off.

Of course she doesn’t keep the secret for long. It feels oddly like a dam breaking, the way the doctor looks at her, kind eyes, face soft with wrinkles. 

She’s diagnosed with moderate depression and anxiety. They ask her all these questions about how she feels before and after she cuts, they look at them, she’s embarrassed by them, the way they’ve traveled from her arms to her thighs, some scattered on her hips. It’s dangerous. It could lead to something more. She has the motivation, the persistence to keep pushing. 

They prescribe her medication. They conclude her self harming is more to do with her anxiety. She’s desensitized herself, body unable to cope with the crippling feeling of being seen, of performing. Her self harming is the only way she can force her body to react. She can’t help herself when they start talking about her body issues, feels out of body as she explains how she makes herself throw up, how she purposely looks for articles insulting her.

She listens to a total stranger tell her just how many things are wrong with her. Tell her everything she’s feeling, why she’s feeling this way, tell her how she has to fix it.

It’s a long tedious process and eventually Hyejin is asked to come back. She’s sent home with prescriptions and orders to start keeping a journal, write down how she feels before and after she has a moment of weakness. When she finds comfort in hurting herself, when she’s looking forward to bending over a toilet bowl.

She offers a smile but it feels stiff, unnerving. 

“Will I...ever be ok,” Hyejin asks, unsure.

The warm eyes look at her, she feels like she’s drowning in their gaze.

“You’re already ok,” the doctor says, leaning forward, “you’re here and you’re trying, you’re already ok.”

Hyejin clears her throat, she promised herself she wouldn’t cry during her first session.

“Then, I’ll be normal?” Hyejin tries again, wanting an answer.

She gets a smile, a small nod.

“Come back soon,” the doctor says and it sounds somewhat reassuring, like a promise.

-

Hyejin wakes up to the empty sky. It’s dark and there’s no stars in sight. Just the slow, lethargic rolling of clouds, big, dark, thunderous. The smell of food reaches her and she can hear the voice of a video, going step by step on how to make American burgers.

“She’s going way too fast,” Yongsun wails, voice loud. There’s hushing right after, dragged out, almost hissing.

“She’s sleeping,” Byulyi mumbles, there’s the sound of a swatting hand hitting skin and Yongsun’s voice dragging into a whine.

“Do we have eggs?” Wheein asks, clearly trying to get back on track. 

“They’re in the fridge,” Yongsun says, rewinding the video to the part she missed. There’s the sound of chopping, the slam of the fridge closing.

Hyejin smiles to herself, closes her eyes, wants to pretend she can still fall back to sleep.

The window is open enough to let in some air, and Hyejin opens her eyes when she smells the scent of rain being carried in.

The meat sizzling as it hits the pan, the smell of it, makes her sit up.

Wheein smiles at her once she’s close enough to them, her eyes are still half closed but she doesn’t want to be left out.

“We made burgers,” Wheein says, opening her arms to show here the dressings they bought, lettuce, cheese, tomatoes. 

“They’re almost ready,” Yongsun says, from where she’s trying frantically to flip a patty over.

They’ve gotten a new television. It’s small and a bit grainy but it works. Wheein turns it on to a singing competition, crowds into Hyejin’s space. 

They’re squished together, watching television to the sound of steadily falling rain. The faraway roll of thunder, echoing, ushering the flashes of lightning. The television is showing commercials, snacks in colorful bags, air puffed. Hyejin takes a bite of her burger.

_I’m happy,_ she thinks, has to remember to write that down in her journal.

-

Wheein watches her take her daily prescription, take a swing of water, close the cap back. She keeps them in the bathroom, somewhere where she can see them everyday. 

“How do they make you feel,” Wheein asks, genuinely curious, as Hyejin comes back from the bathroom.

They’re alone again, this time with the television to fill the silence.

“Tired,” Hyejin answers, “but also like I have all this energy ready to burst out of me.”

She’s tapping her foot against the armrest of the couch and Wheein’s eyes go to the movement.

“But the doctor told me the side effects should wear out soon,” she tries to stop her foot, “it’ll get better soon.”

It sounds like a wish, like something Hyejin has only dreamed about having.

Wheein sings along to the jingle of a commercial, Hyejin laughs, tries to harmonize with her. 

There’s a lot of things being unsaid but Hyejin knows everything Wheein means to tell her.

Wheein shimmies closer to her and Hyejin allows herself to lean her head on Wheein’s shoulder, closing her eyes when Wheein’s hand pushes through her hair, soft, gentle, _grounding_.

“I’m glad you’re getting help,” Wheein says, voice quiet.

It trails off and it leads into a path Hyejin knows Wheein doesn’t want to explore just yet.

She opens her eyes and Wheein’s gaze looks right back at her, searching, asking, wanting to know Hyejin is something close to being happy.

“I’m glad you’ve helped me all this time,” Hyejin says, the words catch in her throat, and she knows she’s only moments away from crying, “even with all my missing parts.”

Wheein leans back to look at her, thumbs reaching out to catch the tears that haven’t fallen yet.

It’s all Hyejin needs to finally let her tears fall.

“All your missing parts are with me,” Wheein says, earnest, simple, a statement. Like no one will ever be able to take that away from them.

“And all your missing parts are me,” Hyejin sniffles, smiling, small laugh escaping her in a hiccup.

“Ah,” Wheein breathes out, her own hands falling away from Hyejin, going back to her own face, wiping the tears now falling from her eyes, “why are we crying out of nowhere?” she laughs too and it makes Hyejin laugh again, it rumbles from her chest, it soothes her burning heart, the nerves that run trembles down her fingertips. 

Wheein’s hand reaches to hold on to hers, their fingers interlace, locked together, a warm press of skin against skin.

There’s a lot of things they have talked about, all these years they’ve known each other, Hyejin feels like she knows everything she has to know about Wheein. Feels like there’s no one more she would ever trust with her heart. Like she’s the luckiest person to have met Wheein at all.

“Soulmates,” Hyejin murmurs, around a smile, threatening to break into another sob.

“I’ve really fallen for you,” Wheein echoes those words, from years ago. 

Hyejin can’t help the laugh that escapes her, loud, braying, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay.

It’s not a confession, it’s not anything Hyejin doesn’t want it to be.

It’s a statement, again a simple statement, a fact, a constant. 

Something Hyejin can always have to fall back on.

Wheein kisses her cheek.

It’s a hard clash of her lips to Hyejin’s cheek. It borders on playful, trying too hard not be something it shouldn’t be.

It’s so undeniably them, it makes Hyejin laugh again, smiling, happy.

She kisses Wheein back, hand holding Wheein’s face in place, her own hard peck met with tightly screwed eyes.

Wheein makes a whining noise at the back of her throat. Pretends to pull away. Her eyes are close, her teeth bared in a smile that Hyejin has had the chance to see over the years. Edging from unsure, insecure, to teasing, comfortable, happy.

“Together forever?” Wheein asks once she stops dodging Hyejin’s kisses, once Hyejin lets go of her and they’re pressed together again, flushed.

Hyejin takes time to think about it. 

The moment they had met in middle school.

When Wheein had first found out just how self destructive she really was. The early morning bus rides to the city just to skip auditions.

The way the summer air stuck to them back home.

The way the cold kept them apart where they are now.

She’s suffered, Wheein has suffered quietly, only for Hyejin to know. And Hyejin has kept everything to herself for far too long.

They have wins under their belts now. They have more people that know who they are. 

Hyejin isn’t happy. 

Hyejin hasn’t been happy in a really long time.

She looks at Wheein and sees the same thing, in her eyes, in her tentative smile. In the way her face is streaked with her stray tears.

“Together forever,” Hyejin agrees, grins wide, an easy spread of her smile.

Wheein mirrors her with her own, dimples showing, eyes starting to crease into half moons.

She isn’t happy, she hasn’t been in a long time.

But looking at Wheein, with the television playing, with the open window letting in a warm breeze, she thinks about what to write down.

_I can learn to be happy again._

**Author's Note:**

> find me/talk to me about this fic or other fics or whatever [twitter](https://twitter.com/gIoomly) / [cc](https://curiouscat.me/gIoomly)
> 
> also if you are able to/feeling generous or would like to leave something here is my [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/gloomily) and my [commission info](https://twitter.com/gIoomly/status/1234681625490771969) if anyone is interested :)  
> but of course you dont have to


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